Flying Machines
by Risible Smile
Summary: The original storytellers left out a few scenes between Ezio and Leonardo. This author was happy to fill in the blanks. Slow burn storytelling, featuring growing tension and the inevitable, oh-so-satisfying release. Takes place intermittently through AC2, Brotherhood, and Revelations. Do enjoy. :)
1. Chapter 1

Flying Machines

_by Risible Smile_

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><p><em>Taking place in the dark, unexplored corners of the games Assassin's Creed 2, Assassin's Creed Brotherhood, and Assassin's Creed Revelations.<em>

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><p>I hope you enjoy this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it for you. Please know that though I am a big fan of BDSM, I do not condone non-consensual sex of any kind. As a writer I only use non-consensual acts to invoke a particular kind of storytelling. I appreciate any and all critiques, so if you do take the time to comment, I thank you. With that said, please read and enjoy!<p>

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

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><p>The day was hot, the sky overcast, the market bustling. Richly colored rugs and pots immersed one merchant's stand; another stand was attended by noisy singers and lute players; yet another stand sold fragrant breads and pastries. It was overwhelming to the senses. Young Leonardo da Vinci moved gracefully through the throngs of people, trying his best to ignore the uncomfortable heat. Sweat rolled down his back in rivulets. He thought wistfully of the cool darkness of his studio and the loose white tunic he could wear in the privacy of his own home, and chilled wine in the pantry.<p>

At last he found the stall where a boy from the artist's guild was selling paints. He was leaning in to inspect the oils when a familiar flash of red and white caught the corner of his eye.

"Ezio!" Momentarily forgetting his purpose, the artist left the guild boy to his oils and hastily made his way across the square. "_Ciao_! _Amico_!"

The assassin paused in the middle of the crowd, looking over his shoulder. A sideways grin appeared beneath the hood.

"Leonardo," he said, turning and opening his arms wide. "I forgot you live so close to the villa. _Cosa c'e di nuovo_?"

Leonardo embraced his friend, clapping him on the back before releasing him, bashfully wiping the sweat from his forehead. "Ah, life is always full of exciting new adventures! What brings you to Venezia, _amico_? _Come stai_?"

"_Bene_, my friend!" Ezio replied with a grin. "I am sorry for my absence, there was a… _troublesome _mission in Roma. _E lei_, _amico_? How are your commissions?" The pair moved to the shade of a loggia as they spoke. Giving his friend a sideways look, Leonardo could not help but notice new wrinkles around the younger man's mouth and eyes, and a tenseness in his shoulders. _The boy has lived a lifetime in only a few years_, he thought sadly. But he cast away the dark thoughts. He would try be the lighter part of Ezio's dark days. As he studied his friend, an unbidden image came to his mind: the assassin leaning back in a chair, closing his eyes as Leonardo pressed his fingers along the boy's shoulders and neck, loosening the hard, tense muscles.

"Bah," said Leonardo, waving away his forbidden thoughts as well as the implications of Ezio's question. "I have not finished anything recently. I cannot get the details just right. Perfection takes time, and time wears away my paint stores like water on sand."

The young assassin relaxed against a stack of crates, rubbing the hilt of his sword absentmindedly. "Time wears away many things," he said quietly, "and reveals great mysteries. _Nulla è reale_." He looked down, his hood masking his eyes.

Leonardo tilted his head to the side, trying to make sense of the boy's riddles. Despite the heat, he felt a cold sadness in his heart. "'Nothing is true?' What do you mean by that?"

Ezio looked up with a rueful smile. "I do not fully know yet. I have… experienced many things that have made me question the world as it is."

"Well, I would love to hear all of your tales, if you have the time," Leonardo said eagerly, thinking again of his cool studio. Then he noticed that Ezio had become distracted by something across the street. Looking around, he saw some soldiers of Firenze marching through the villa, evidently searching for someone. "Ah, I see. Perhaps it would be of mutual benefit for you to come by my house?"

Ezio's eyes flicked back to Leonardo's, and a ghost of a smile played on his scarred lips. "Like old times, eh, _amico_?"

Leonardo smiled in relief. "Indeed, friend. Shall I expect you, then?"

"I will bring the wine."

"Ha! No codex pages for me to riddle out? Wine will do. I look forward to it."

The assassin smiled, turned away, and melted into the crowd. Leonardo gave a happy sigh and returned to the paint stall, paying the guild boy a few florins for some colors. The boy suddenly seemed to recognize Leonardo as he accepted the coins. "_Mi scusi, messere_! Are you Leonardo? From Vinci?" he asked eagerly.

"I am."

The boy looked awed. "I am studying with Verrocchio. He says you have much skill with color."

Leonardo laughed kindly. "_Molte grazie_! Tell him I am hard at work. _Arrivederci_!"

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><p><em>Ciao<em>! _Amico_! - Hey! Friend!  
><em>Cosa c'e di nuovo<em>? - What's new?  
><em>Come stai<em>? - How are you?  
><em>E lei<em>, _amico_? - And you, friend?


	2. Chapter 2

Content Warning: Sexual Assault, Strong Language (Italian)

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><p>Chapter 2<p>

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><p>Candles flickered in Leonardo's apartment as the artist examined his work in progress. Something just wasn't right about it; he could not paint what his mind's eye saw. He considered painting over the tree and beginning anew. With a sigh, he sat back in a chair, rubbing his face. If he did not finish the painting soon, his commissioner would think he was procrastinating. How could he explain the imperfections he saw in his own work, when most everyone else saw naught but perfection?<p>

He looked across the room and out the window, frowning slightly. It had been hours since he had left Ezio in the villa; where _was_ the boy? Perhaps he had gotten distracted by some mission. The assassin led a far more turbid life than the painter. In the back of his mind, Leonardo always worried that the day would come when he would never see his friend again. The boy - no, the _man_ - was a formidable killer, certainly capable of handling himself… but the fearful doubt lingered.

With a frustrated sigh, he put down his oils and stood, briefly dipping his hands in the washbowl. Wiping them on his pants, he went to the door. He was in need of fresh air.

Outside, the night was still warm; it was the height of summer, and the air hung heavy over Firenze. The distant laughter and catcalls of drunken men and women carried through the streets. Leonardo walked out and peered at the sky. If the clouds were not so thick, he might see the stars. His stomach lurched as his mind suddenly brought him vivid images of flying above the rooftops, escaping the muggy city air and bursting into fresh air above the clouds. _I walk this earth with my eyes turned skywards_. He hoped he would unlock the secret of flight before his passing from this world.

The drunken voices were getting louder. As Leonardo walked pensively down the cobbled road, a small group of people suddenly came around the corner. They were a mix of Firenze soldiers and scantily-clad courtesans. At first they ignored him, and he ignored them, but then a shrill voice pierced his thoughts.

"Wait! I know you," one of the women shouted as she hugged the arm of a soldier. "You're that painter!"

"_Leonardo_! _Buono sera_," the others shouted, giggling and falling over themselves. They began chattering loudly, asking him about his commissions. In a building down the street, a woman leaned out of her window and angrily told them all off before slamming her shutters closed.

"What do you say, _messere_?" slurred one of the soldiers, who was barely supported by one of the giggling women. "Will you paint _mia bella_? She has the most beautiful hair, wouldn't you say?" The man took a handful of the woman's ebony hair and pressed his nose into it, making her giggle even louder. Leonardo smiled awkwardly, wishing to be away.

"I doubt he wants to paint your girl, Pietro," another soldier drawled. He had remained silent up until now, gazing at Leonardo with unfathomable eyes. "From what I hear, he has… _other_ interests."

"What! Really? _Sei un finocchio_?"

Leonardo's blood ran cold. How could they know? They must simply be jesting. _Unless the rumors have followed me all the way from Vinci_…

"Ah, _permesso_, I must be going now," he said hastily, trying to push through the drunken group who had come uncomfortably close. The men laughed, disgust coloring their voices as they pushed Leonardo down the street. Three of the women began to back away, looking at each other uncertainly. The fourth woman joined the men, guffawing. "Ah, he just needs to know a proper _figa_!" She pressed her body against Leonardo's, and he could smell the spirits on her breath. The five men jeered, urging her on. Despite his verbal and physical protests, Leonardo found himself being guided into a dark alley. The other three women ran off. He was alone with these people.

"_Prego… prego_!" Leonardo said as loudly as he could, pushing back against his attackers. It did little good. They surrounded him, egged on by copious amounts of spirits. He doubted they would remember this in the morning. They were thoroughly drunk.

The woman hiked up her skirts as she rubbed against him. "Whaddaya say, _messere_? Care for a taste? I'll show you how _amazing_ it feels…"

"Perhaps he would prefer a taste of _il mio cazzo_!"

_Why are they doing this_? Leonardo thought to himself, deeply disturbed and shocked. _They are supposed to protect the citizens. _At first it had seemed like harmless taunting, but the soldiers were getting increasingly rough. To his shock, one of them drew his sword and hit the back of Leonardo's knees with the flat of his blade. The artist fell to his knees with a cry, and though he immediately tried to stand again, gloved hands held him down.

The situation became even more surreal when one of the soldiers unbuttoned his trousers and pressed his half-hard cock against Leonardo's cheek. The men laughed and jeered, urging Leonardo to _succhiare il cazzo_. The woman, in a drunken fit, tried to put her skirts over Leonardo's head. His head swam. He was overwhelmed by the absurdity of the situation. The stench of stale alcohol, sweat, and urine washed over him. He gagged, trying to regain control of himself. _Patience._

Suddenly, the laughter turned to yells of outrage. Leonardo looked up and saw three of the soldiers drawing their swords. Two of their comrades lay prostrate, mere feet from Leonardo, choking wordlessly as blood pooled around their necks. A silent, dark figure slowly withdrew his blades from their necks as he stood.

"Ezio," Leonardo whispered, struggling to stand. His head throbbed as he tried to grasp the situation.

The other three soldiers, having backed away from the shadows, now ran at Ezio with their swords raised. The alcohol was clearly working against them, for they were sluggish compared to the assassin's cat-like speed. With precision, Ezio ducked their swords and slashed at one man's stomach and another's neck. As the two fell, he plunged his blade into the chest of the last man. The man gave a gurgling moan as he dropped to the ground. Leonardo heard his heart pounding in his ears.

"_Requiescat in pace_, _bastardi_," the assassin said quietly.

"E-Ezio!" Leonardo croaked, finding the strength to get to his feet. "You… killed..."

The assassin walked briskly towards his friend, pulling back his hood as he went. "Are you alright, _amico mio_?" He helped Leonardo stand.

Leonardo was beside himself. "Ezio! You cannot - you just murdered five innocent men -"

"_Innocent_?" the assassin spat. "Those men were Borgia's. And they were going to -"

"Ezio." Leonardo felt a sob in his throat. He swallowed it down. "Patience. Patience serves as protection against wrongs as clothes against the cold. Those men were drunk. They were not in their right minds. I know you have saved my life from troublesome guards before, and - I even built those blades you use, but… this... _dio mio_..." he struggled to find the words.

Ezio cast a disgusted look at the bloody bodies. "I have no patience for those kinds of men."

"The _assassino_ is right, _messere_," said a throaty voice. Leonardo turned, surprised to see the three courtesans from earlier, standing with arms crossed. They looked at the corpses with disdain in their eyes. "We were… investigating them. At least, the three of us were. Carlotta left, hm?"

Leonardo tried to remember. "I suppose… she must have."

"Paola will hear of it. You likely won't be seeing that Carlotta around these parts again."

"When you return to _La Rosa Colta_, will you please give this to Paola?" asked Ezio, holding out a small bag. It _clink_-ed when the women accepted it.

"Thank you, Ezio. Your presence in this city is always… appreciated." The women smiled knowingly, and Leonardo thought he saw Ezio's face flush beneath his hood. "Come by _La Rosa Colta_ sometime, will you?"

"You can be sure of it."

"You are welcome to join us, too, Leonardo!"

Leonardo swallowed. The women giggled and began walking back down the road, after exchanging farewells. The artist then turned to face his friend. He gave a choked laugh.

Young Ezio Auditore, though a merciless killer, had just saved Leonardo from a difficult spot - and not for the first time. As his intellectual senses slowly returned to him, he began to assess the situation. His friend was here, the road was silent and empty, and - he thought with guilty pleasure - there were five fresh cadavers for him to examine. His mind began to spin with the possibilities for scientific discovery.

"Come," he said to his friend. "Help me get these bodies to my house."

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><p><em>Buono sera - <em>Good evening  
><em>Mia bella - <em>My beauty  
><em>Sei un finocchio<em>? - Are you a faggot?  
><em>Permesso<em> - Excuse me  
><em>Il mio cazzo<em> - My cock  
><em>Succhiare il cazzo - <em>Suck cock  
><em>Dio mio - <em>My God  
><em>La Rosa Colta - "<em>The Plucked Rose," the brothel in Florence, headed by Paola


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

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><p>Leonardo washed the blood from his hands and clothes as Ezio hung his armor and weapons on the back of a chair. "<em>Grazie<em>, _amico_," Leonardo said, hoping his words carried the meaning he felt. "I am sorry for telling you off. Your assistance was… appreciated."

Ezio grunted, wincing slightly as he unclasped his armor.

"I really am sorry," Leonardo said fervently. "You and I… we lead very different lives."

"That we do, my friend. It is alright. I understand that my ways are… a little too efficient sometimes."

Leonardo laughed. "That is one way to say it. I suppose it is death that gives us life. It just saddens me that... that you deal it so harshly, so quickly." He gazed at his friend, trying to understand him. Ezio turned away.

"I do what must be done," he said.

_And as you cannot do what you want, want what you must do_, Leonardo thought sadly. The man had grown to love killing.

An uncomfortable silence fell between them. Leonardo sighed, and then briskly dried his hands on a towel and moved to close the distance between them. "Come, friend. I want to hear all about your travels these past few months."

An hour later, they lay sprawled on opposite ends of a sofa strewn with pillows as Ezio finished his story. Leonardo sipped wine from his glass, fascinated. Oh, how very much the man had gone through in such a short time! No wonder he had been so quick to kill those soldiers. With the amount of power that Borgia was gaining, his corruption was also growing steadily. Ezio's eyes grew darker as he told his story. Once again, Leonardo was struck by how much older the assassin looked.

At a lull in the story, Leonardo set down his wine glass and leaned towards Ezio. "Thank you for coming to visit, friend. I cannot imagine how much you have gone through in such a short time. The path ahead must seem dark in your eyes."

"It does seem so," Ezio sighed. He stood, stretching. Leonardo, feeling hazy after three glasses of wine, admired the younger man's muscular frame. Ezio stooped to pour more wine into his own glass. Then, to Leonardo's surprise, the man folded forward and sat on the floor before Leonardo, leaning his back against the sofa with a grunt. Leonardo could smell the younger man's musk, and he fought the urge to run his fingers through Ezio's long, dark hair. The assassin sighed, dropping his chin to his chest.

"I… miss them. My family," said Ezio, breaking the silence. "It has been more than two years, and not a day goes by that I do not think of them. I'm glad that…" he paused, seeming to consider his words, and then continued softly. "At least my mother and sister are safe."

Leonardo felt tears prick at his eyes. He himself had never had strong attachments to his parents, being an illegitimate son who often had his head in the clouds. His family now consisted of the artists and mentors in Firenze, and he had many friends and admirers across Italia. But, Ezio… he had had everything torn away from him abruptly, and at such a young age… and then had been forced into a brutal life, motivated by vengeance. It was cruel that he should suffer so much.

Without thinking, Leonardo adjusted himself so that he sat comfortably right behind Ezio, and began kneading the muscles of the younger man's neck and shoulders. Ezio started a little, then relaxed back. "Thank you, Leonardo."

"Not a problem, _amico mio_," the artist replied, glad that Ezio was facing away and could not see Leonardo's concerned expression. He tenderly yet firmly rubbed away the knots in Ezio's muscles, both out of concern and curiosity. The younger man was truly a model of human perfection: not only _molto bello_, but also powerfully chiseled, like a statue carved by the ancients. His skin was warm to the touch.

It took a few minutes for Leonardo to realize that Ezio had fallen asleep, hunched forward. He stood from the sofa and carefully lay Ezio down, placing some pillows beneath his head. It was still warm enough for the idea of a blanket to be ludicrous. Having situated his friend, Leonardo retired to his bed upstairs, sleepy but content.

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><p>Leonardo was woken by the unbearable heat of the new day. Simultaneously frustrated and fascinated by the way that heat seemed to collect upstairs, he quickly bathed himself in the washbowl by his bed and pulled on a fresh white tunic. He then descended to his studio, hoping against hope that his friend was still there.<p>

The studio was empty, the pillows placed neatly back on the sofa. Crestfallen, Leonardo rolled up his sleeves and set to work. He had the whisper of an idea for a new machine, one that might lift human bodies above the ground, possibly as high as the clouds.

As he sifted through the items on his worktable, he came across a leaf of paper that had not been there last night. Curious, he sat down to read it.

_Leonardo,_

_I apologize for leaving so soon. As always, I sincerely enjoy your company, my friend. I hope our paths cross again soon. Next time, you bring the wine!_

_Ezio_

Leonardo smiled, and then set to his task with renewed energy. Thoughts of the assassin lingered in the back of his mind, and try as he might, he could not shake the thought of those muscular shoulders, and the way Ezio's body had felt so smooth and hard and warm under his hands.

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><p><em>Molto bello <em>- Very handsome


	4. Chapter 4

Content Warning: Self-pleasure

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><p>Chapter 4<p>

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><p>Almost two years passed before Leonardo met his assassin friend again. They joined company on the road to Venezia. The years had treated Leonardo kinder than they had Ezio; the younger man's expressive eyes were darker than ever, and a shadow seemed to hang over him. Leonardo felt the same concern for his friend rekindle after so many moons apart.<p>

After Ezio helped him with his difficult and dangerous journey to Venezia, Leonardo invited him to his new home for some celebratory wine and bread. "It is the least I can do for my closest friend, who always seems to find me in difficult situations!"

Ezio laughed kindly. "I will be there, Leonardo. Tonight?"

"Tonight!"

Hours later, he was sitting at his workstation, piecing together carefully-crafted parts of what he hoped would be a functional flying machine, when someone knocked on his door.

"_Un momento_!" he cried, carefully setting down wooden pieces and gears before rising and hastening to the door. He flung it open with a grin, his arms open wide. "_Benvenuto_, Ezio!"

"_Grazie_, Leonardo!"

They embraced, and Leonardo sensed something different in the assassin's grip. The hug lingered slightly longer than he expected. Clearing his throat, he released his friend and guided him into his new home. Ezio nodded to the contraption on Leonardo's table. "Still working on the… 'flying machine,' eh?"

"Indeed. It will take time, but I have the highest hopes for it. Come, let me show you to my new study. It is still in need of some work, but it will do. If you remember, as you suggested in your letter, I have provided the wine this time."

"Good! I brought the bread."

"Let us eat and drink to a new city!"

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><p>Later, they sat laughing and chatting in Leonardo's study, surrounded by half-unpacked boxes and dusty bookshelves. They discussed the curiosities of Venezia, rumors of royalty and carnivales and courtesans. Leonardo noticed the shift in Ezio's mood.<p>

He took a gulp of wine before inquiring. "You seem… happier, Ezio. Has something changed?"

Ezio gave him a sideways smile. "A new city, a new life. Though I miss my family and my home, it feels good to be able to start fresh. Everything here is… well…" he trailed off, gazing absentmindedly into Leonardo's eyes. Leonardo felt his face flush, and he was not sure it was because of the wine.

"... A new adventure?" he suggested, taking another sip. The assassin nodded, his smile slowly fading. He suddenly cleared his throat and stood from the table, seeming distracted.

"I must go."

The artist frowned sadly. "So soon? Why not stay the night?"

"I would, but the Thieves Guild has requested my help. I will probably be up many more hours with them, planning our next move." He donned his armor and weapons, as Leonardo watched him in silence.

"Well," said the artist at last, "If you should happen to need anything my friend, please do not hesitate to come by. My doors are always open for you."

Ezio looked at Leonardo with an unfathomable expression. "I know, _amico mio_. Your friendship is most important to me."

After the assassin left, Leonardo dragged himself to his new bedroom. The house felt bigger, somehow. He removed his clothes and lay in bed, thinking.

The assassin was not interested. This much Leonardo was certain of. And yet - the way he had looked at him, Leonardo, with those dark eyes… It had kindled an old, familiar feeling in Leonardo's stomach. He felt his heart quicken as he relived the night. Somehow, he was reminded of his childhood adventures with the farm boys of rural Tuscany. _What was his name_? He tried to recall buried memories of a sandy-haired boy who loved horses. _Luciano_, he suddenly remembered with a small smile. The older boy had taught him much about horses, among other things…

His body began to feel warm. He found himself fondling the curls of blond hair around his member, and then grasping the hard shaft as he gasped at the vivid images suddenly flying through his mind. In his mind's eye, Ezio replaced the farm boy, leading Leonardo into a dark, private place where he removed their clothes and knelt before Leonardo. He moaned as he rubbed his shaft with one hand, gripping the fur blankets with the other, imagining himself locking eyes with the assassin as hot lips engulfed his member. The deep, powerful sensation in his groin built until he could stand it no longer. He released his seed into the air, spurts of it landing on his chest, some of it landing in the golden curls of his groin.

He lay there for several minutes, basking in the glow of momentary satisfaction. Later, as he washed, he mentally berated himself. _This will not do. I must bury such thoughts now, before I lose myself. It is far easier to resist at the beginning than at the end._

Yet he could not shake the feeling. The dark, suggestive eyes of Ezio Auditore haunted his dreams that night, and for many nights to come.

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><p>Almost five years later, Leonardo found himself in the middle of a conspiracy to invade the Palazzo Ducale di Venezia. Ezio, Leonardo's fickle and often-absent friend, seemed to believe that the flying machine was their only hope. Not wanting to disappoint, yet desperately certain that the prototype still needed work, the artist allowed Ezio to experiment with it.<p>

_The boy is mad_, Leonardo thought to himself incredulously. After offering his best advice, based on his thorough studies of birds, he watched his friend leap off of Leonardo's rooftop, trusting the machine born from wishful dreams.

The assassin soon returned, obviously upset. After briefly discussing the failed flight, another man entered the room unannounced. He seemed to be in a rush. "Ezio! My men tell me Carlo has the poison. We must hurry." Ezio nodded.

"Antonio, this is Leonardo. The master inventor who built this…" he muttered, "this _pezzo di merda_."

Leonardo's heart fell. "Hey! It's not the machine's fault. It's mine." His mind raced as he tried to think of a solution. "I've checked and rechecked my blueprints. It's just impossible! I don't know how to extend the flight... Ah, _che idea del cazzo_!" Overcome by grief and disappointment, he cast the blueprints into the fireplace and fell back into an armchair.

A spark of enlightenment touched his mind as he watched the paper burn. Wisps of paper floated above the flames... He suddenly recalled the extraordinary warmth of his upstairs apartment in Firenze, and the unusual coolness of his downstairs studio - _EUREKA_! He ignored the bemusement of his visitors as he returned to his work table, muttering ideas and calculations to himself. _Heat rises_… _It needs fire_!

Later that evening, Leonardo stood with Ezio and Antonio on the rooftop. They discussed the mechanics of the flight. They were each giddy with anticipation.

"I wish there was some way I could use my sword while flying this thing," Ezio remarked, studying the machine.

Leonardo's mind raced. He was excited and nervous. "Well… you do have your feet free. If you get close enough without taking an arrow in the head, maybe you could kick them off the building?" he suggested.

Ezio's eyes twinkled. "Nice," he said.

The artist had spoken humorously, but worry gnawed at the back of his mind. What if his machine ended up bringing about the demise of his best friend? All he could do was watch as the assassin bravely gripped the handlebars of the machine and took a running leap off of the building.

His stomach lurched as he watched his friend soar above the rooftops. Inside, he felt an odd mixture of doubt, excitement, and jealousy. If only he himself had the courage - or madness - to leap into thin air…

"Are you alright, _messere_?" asked Antonio, who stood beside him, also watching their friend.

Leonardo nodded, swallowing hard. "I believe I will be. To see one of my inventions… Well, I just hope Ezio returns safely."

Antonio nodded and clapped Leonardo on the back before descending from the rooftop. "He will, _amico_. Trust me." The man winked at Leonardo before disappearing, but the artist was transfixed on the horizon, watching his friend disappear into the night. Distant shouts of rooftop guards slowly faded into silence. Eventually, as dawn began to break the sky, Leonardo sighed and resigned himself to waiting in his studio. He slowly descended.

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><p>Luciano - Italian name, meaning "light, illumination"<br>_Pezzo di merda _- Piece of shit  
><em>Che idea del cazzo<em>! _-_ A shit idea!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

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><p>Three loud knocks came at his door came just as Leonardo was fixing himself a simple noon meal. He rushed to his door, hope filling his chest. But it was not Ezio who answered the door - it was a Venetian guard.<p>

"Ah - may I help you?" asked Leonardo, trying to disguise the worry in his voice.

"I hope so," said the guard. "We have a tip that you may know something about the man who assassinated the Doge this morning. Have you heard anything of it?"

Leonardo gasped. "I have not! What else have you heard?"

"Well, the _assassino_ is suspected to be dead. We had guards shooting at him as he tried to escape. But besides that, _nulla_." The guard sighed. "It has been an unusual day. _Arrivederci_, _messere_."

"_Addio_," said Leonardo weakly.

He closed the door in shock. Ezio Auditore… dead? It could not be true. The assassin had survived countless trials. He could live out this one. Besides, that was his way, was it not? Kill from the shadows, then retreat back to the shadows like a cat, unseen...

Just as he was about to turn back into his studio, a knock came again at the door, this time quiet but rapid. Heart in his throat, Leonardo swung the door open again, and was surprised to see Ezio's friend from the Thieves Guild.

"Ah, Antonio, was it? What brings you here?" Leonardo tried to mask the worry in his voice.

Antonio slipped past Leonardo and into the room without a word. Quelling his irritation, Leonardo closed the door and followed his guest inside.

At the fireplace, Antonio turned and looked Leonardo in the eyes. "It is true. The Doge is dead. As is his friend, Carlo Grimaldi. Along with dozens of Venezia's soldiers."

Leonardo swallowed, taking a seat at his workbench. "Our mutual friend has always been… thorough." At that, Antonio snorted.

"He has proven to be a powerful and trustworthy ally, yes. A very... _talented_ man. I came to tell you that he is still alive. My men saw him slip into the bay unscathed. He is probably on his way here, now."

Leonardo smiled with relief. "That is good news, my friend."

"Indeed. We hope he will come to us to fill in the gaps of the events of today. The situation is... unusual. I will be curious to hear his perspective."

"As will I," said Leonardo honestly.

There was a moment of silence. Antonio cleared his throat and looked down at his feet, evidently nervous.

Puzzled, Leonardo spread his hands. "Is there… something else you wish to talk about?"

Antonio lifted his head and looked appraisingly at the artist.

"Well, yes." Antonio sighed and crossed his arms. "It's about Ezio. You should know… well, you should know that he trusts you deeply. Yesterday, on our way here, he told me all about you, and I could hear the feeling in his voice. He… cares for you."

Leonardo's heart skipped a beat, but he kept his face calm. He was afraid to hope. "I care for him, as well. We have been close friends ever since he lost his father and brothers."

Antonio chuckled and shook his head, uncrossing his arms and beginning to pace in front of the fire. His voice sounded odd, like he was on the verge of laughing. "You do not quite catch my meaning. It is fine, I will let the two of you sort things out. But… be wary," he said, suddenly serious. "This city can be a dangerous place for those who stray from the shadows." The thief paused and held his chin in his hand for a moment, and then began to briskly make his way to the door, evidently trying to hide his smile. Leonardo sat in paralyzed silence for a moment, gazing at the fire in growing disbelief.

Just as Antonio reached the door, Leonardo turned and blurted out, "What - what did Ezio say?"

This time Antonio laughed outright. "It is not for me to tell, _amico mio_! After all, what do I know? I prefer the soft curves of women, but, well, every man has his own needs... That is all I will say!" He laughed again, and left.

The crackling fire was the only sound after Antonio shut the door behind him. Leonardo sat in stunned silence, his mind reliving the bizarre conversation over and over. _What a strange man. Could it be that Ezio truly is_...?

Leonardo groaned and put his head in his hands.

For a few moments, his mind was alight with forbidden hopes and dreams, spinning about like the drunk, happy dancers at Venezia's _Carnevale_. Echoes of Antonio's words and visions of the assassin's face overwhelmed his consciousness.

He sighed and rubbed his face, slumped over. He stayed like that a few minutes, trying to fill his mind with scientific theories, and not with thoughts of the assassin. At last he stood, stretching. He would not consider this matter any more, at least not until Ezio returned. He had some ideas about innovative flight mechanics that he wanted to sketch out; namely ways to fly without requiring half the city's firewood reserves. Adjusting an oil lamp so its light poured over his workbench, he set his mind to his task. Outside, the afternoon gradually faded to dusk.

The night carried on, a light breeze occasionally drifting in through the window, the oil lamp flickering. Leonardo was surrounded by his work, and he was content. His noon meal sat untouched on the kitchen table. The gnawing questions in the back of his mind gave way more and more to the intellectual curiosity that both blessed and plagued his being.

Immersed in his theories and sketches, he did not hear the assassin enter the room.

A light draft tugged at his hair, causing him to turn. Startled, he saw the assassin walking towards him, eyes burning like embers.

"Ezio! _Dio mio_!" Leonardo cried. "You're alive!" He leaned in towards his friend, gripping his shoulder. The intoxicating scent of leather and musk - and, faintly, blood - swept over Leonardo, and though his heart fluttered, he firmly ignored it. "Is it true? They say you killed the Doge -"

"I was trying to _save_ him, Leonardo," Ezio said, brimming with fury and anguish. "But the truth matters little. I failed. And now I'm the most wanted man in Venezia."

A dozen thoughts ran through Leonardo's mind at that instant. _The most "wanted" man, indeed… The way he says my name, it is simply... Could Antonio have been speaking the_ truth? _What reason would he have to lie_? No,_ I mustn't think such thoughts_! _Ezio came here for my help._ "Well, perhaps you are in luck," he said comfortingly. "It's _Carnevale_ in Venezia. This is the time when everybody goes without a face!"

Relaxing, Ezio nodded. "That's why I'm here. Do you have a mask I can wear?"

"Of course, of course! Somewhere in here…" Leonardo hastened to his workbench and began to rummage through the drawers.

In the moment of silence when Leonardo was looking away, he did not see the assassin shake his head in silent frustration.

After a moment, Ezio said, "_Grazie_, _amico mio_. And I have something for you." He produced a scroll of paper.

"Ohh, more of the codex!" Leonardo murmured. He eagerly took the worn scroll in his hands and glanced at Ezio appreciatively. The warm, dark look in Ezio's eyes momentarily startled him, and he quickly looked back down at the scroll and brought it to a table.

The codex page was a welcome mental and physical distraction. Helping the assassin on his missions was always an exciting and dangerous game. Ezio never shied away from a challenge, and Leonardo enjoyed helping the young assassin meet new challenges.

The mysteries of the codex page revealed some kind of wrist-bound gun, as small as a hummingbird. He said as much to Ezio, who was incredulous. Leonardo worked all night on the contraption, happy to be both helping his friend and staying distracted from his forbidden thoughts. He offered his home as a place for the assassin to rest that night, and Ezio gratefully obliged.

Ezio slept in the chair before the fireplace. Throughout the night, Leonardo would occasionally glance over at his friend, whose chin rested on his chest as his hands hung over the arms of the chair. The assassin had stripped down to a loose white tunic and brown leather breeches. He slept deeply and silently.

Before he went upstairs to bed, Leonardo quietly placed the finished wrist contraption at Ezio's feet, along with a mug of fresh water and a loaf of bread for Ezio to enjoy in the morning. No doubt the assassin would awaken long before himself, and he would likely immediately want to play with his new "toy."

After quietly placing the items before his friend, Leonardo stood and allowed himself just a moment to gaze at the sleeping man. Ezio's chest rose and fell, and he occasionally took in a deep breath and let it out with a long _sigh_. His eyes darted about beneath his eyelids, and his fingers twitched every few seconds. It was all Leonardo could do not to reach out and rub the tension from his friend's shoulders, to carry him hip to his bed where the assassin might stretch out and relax more fully. Not wanting to interrupt his friend's sleep, and not wanting to entertain the thoughts running through his mind, Leonardo quickly made his way upstairs and to his bed. Once again, he found himself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, unable to keep himself from imagining things which made his member hot and erect. Antonio's words repeated themselves over and over in his mind, and for a brief, bright moment, he dared to hope.

With a frustrated sigh, the artist rolled over and slowly fell into a fitful sleep.


End file.
